I kissed the skin above his hip. “I love you.”
“Because of my important observations?”
“Among other things.”
His hands dropped away. His smile was crooked, embarrassed, and so open it hurt. “Continue, then.”
So I did.
I took my time until the humor thinned into need, until his fingers twisted in the sheets, until his body stopped searching for a dozen different outlets and found one rhythm under my hands. He didn’t go quiet all at once. It happened gradually. His breathing changed first. Then his mouth stopped shaping words. Then his focus narrowed until there was only us, the bed, the heat between us, my name in his throat.
He asked for more without shame.
I gave it to him with patience. With attention. With all the care I had failed to give other parts of my life and all the need I could no longer pretend was discipline.
When we came together fully, it was slow.
His eyes stayed on mine. His hands gripped my arms. I held him with my weight and my attention, not pinning him down,anchoring him. Every movement had intention behind it. Every breath felt shared. The intimacy of it was almost more than sex, almost more exposed than anything we had done in the dark, because there was nowhere for either of us to hide.
Jace trembled under me.
“More,” he whispered.
I kissed him instead of answering.
He made a frustrated sound against my mouth. “Declan. Please.”
I gave him more.
Not rushed. Not careless. Closer.
His legs tightened around me. His mouth found mine, then lost it when his head tipped back. He laughed once, breathless, when our teeth knocked together.
“Smooth,” he muttered.
“Quiet.”
“No.”
I smiled against his mouth and moved again.
That took the word from him.
His back arched. The sound he made was raw enough to strip the control right out of me. I slid one hand beneath him, holding him close, watching pleasure break over his face in waves he couldn’t organize or outrun. It wasn’t submission that hit me hardest. It was the trust. The way he let me see him without a joke ready, without armor, without pretending he was less affected than he was.
Then he came apart in my arms.
His whole body seized. His eyes opened wide, shocked and almost insulted, like his own body had betrayed him in front of witnesses.
“What the fuck,” he gasped.
I couldn’t stop the laugh.
He smacked my shoulder, weak and useless. “Don’t laugh.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
